


To Whom It May Concern

by Outdated_Meme



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Eldritch, Eldritch Monster au, Good, Graphic Description of Corpses, I'M IN HELL, That's Right Everyone, also if you can't tell what time period this takes place in, ambiguity to the point of frustration is what I’m going for, in canon kravitz is an alien fucker, now he's a monster fucker
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:13:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22078276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Outdated_Meme/pseuds/Outdated_Meme
Summary: The young Angus McDonald lives in the quaint town of Falkirk, it truly is a lovely place, regardless of the terrifying looming forest just to the right of it.
Relationships: Barry Bluejeans & Magnus Burnsides & Davenport & Merle Highchurch & Lucretia & Lup & Taako, Carey Fangbattle & Killian & Angus McDonald, IPRE Crew | Starblaster Crew & Angus McDonald, June & Angus McDonald, Kravitz & Angus McDonald, Kravitz/Taako (The Adventure Zone)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 14





	To Whom It May Concern

**Author's Note:**

> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6QWOiyqYoTIan8HkBLcheS?si=idvch56SSgO6wetZKAbXag  
> ^ These are the only songs I listened to while I've been writing this

It was that time in the morning that Angus particularly enjoyed. The one where both the moon and the sun were shown in the sky at the same time. Although it was only for a brief time, he loved to sit at the large outcropped window seat in his bedroom and watch as the darkness in the sky slowly retreated with the moon to make way for the sun's glorious reign. 

This particular morning, he noticed the fresh dew that layered the well-kempt dark green grass. The orderly height of it stopped a few feet away from the iron wrought fence.

After the boy had decided that he’d done enough gazing, he stretched his arms above his head, pulled on some slippers, and headed out of his room.

He walked through the hallway, sliding his hand across the banister. The dark wood creaked slightly under his steps until he stopped at the top of the stairs. The steps were a set of three wedge-shaped portions that together made a 90-degree angle turn. A strip of rough, dark red carpet laid on the center of each step, purposely leaving about two or so inches of wood uncovered on either side. He remembered how he’d slip on the steps as a much younger child due to the carpet. It was a mistake he only made a handful of times, in part due to trial and error, but also from the scoldings he’d received from his mother and father. 

As bad as he felt about it, he wasn’t sure he really missed them, and, in his defense, he was never actually afforded the option to. 

Angus made his way downstairs and into the kitchen. It was one of the considerably less extravagant rooms of the house, and it was one of the reasons he liked it so much. A wood burner, a few cabinets, an icebox, a sink, a broom closet, and a long counter. That’s all there was to it. 

Deciding that he was only a bit hungry, he grabbed a small orange and peeled it, eating it by its slices. He drank some water from a pristine glass and threw away the peels. His eyes drifted to the large bay window as he did so, a trace of a smile on his lips. He was pretty excited about today.

He made his way back upstairs, passing by the expensive oil paintings of flowers and landscapes. He huffed out a sigh as he walked along. It’s not that he wasn’t thankful to live in such a nice and upscale house, because in truth, he was. It was just that, sometimes, living in such a fancy place filled with incredibly high expectations could wear a person down, especially if that person was an eleven-year-old boy.

Following a quick, warm bath, he got dressed in a white long-sleeved cotton shirt and light brown trousers that stopped below his knees, long wool socks were tucked into their elastic bands. A matching vest overlapped his shirt and was buttoned up his across his torso, a small silver chain accented the front of its collar. He stared into the lead-lined mirror, attempting to tame his dark curls. He decided that is was a feudal effort, so when he went into his room for his satchel, he grabbed his dark blue cap as well. 

He exited the large house, and walked to the side of it, going towards the shed. The outside of his grandfather’s manor was an intimidating sight. It was tall with dark bricks making up the exterior walls. Each eye-like windows stared down at him with matching shutters of black glossy painted wood. From the look of it, Angus surmised that they had just recently been redone. 

When he got to the shed, he opened both wooden doors and pulled his bike out before he shut them again. 

Rolling his bicycle next to him, he followed the smooth brick walkway to the front gate. It was an imposing thing, heavy and foreboding with small, rounded finials. He unlocked both locks with two separate keys from his bag. The bars of the gate were thick and cold as he wrapped his hand around two of them to wedge his way through. After he successfully exited, he locked the doors behind him. He walked his bike down the small moud his grandfather’s house sat on before having to unlock an additional gate that was just as large as the first. He gave a small smile and a nod to Ms. Killian, one of the security personnel, and continued on his way. In all, the property was about fifteen thousand square feet, so having staff around who tended to the manor’s needs was something he was used to by now. 

Angus rode the curb next to the street’s neat cobblestone sidewalk, careful not to hit a lighting post or a parked car (not that there were many around this town). He was happy that today wasn’t one where fog decided to role in.

He passed the welcoming shops that lined the sidewalks. Small restaurants and cafes, a bookstore, a metal workshop, and- oh. Ink Attune. 

He swerved his bike over the curb and cut across the sidewalk. His bike was set gently against the building’s bricks and he opened the door, stepping inside. The familiar chime of the bell above head sounded which made the shop owner momentarily stop her conversation to nod in Angus’ direction. When she went back to her conversation, Angus noticed that she was conversing with an unfamiliar person.

He was a tall, dark-skinned man with thick dreadlocks that were tied behind him with a smooth looking dark purple ribbon. His eyes were hard and he seemed focused. His clothing was similar to Angus’, in that they seemed expensive and extremely well taken care of. He had a small gold pocket watch in his left hand as he wrote something down with his right. His stature was upright and confidence radiated off of him. Angus recognized him as a man of high class who commandeered respect. It wasn’t every day that a stranger like him showed up in Falkirk since it was a decently small-sized town that wasn’t particularly special in any way. 

Keeping that in mind, the boy made his way over to a display of fountain pens. He was only half paying attention to them, as he was trying to listen in on the conversation the two were having at the front desk. It seemed like their tones were low and hushed, making it very hard to completely understand. Thankfully, that didn’t everything was inaudible. 

Angus could make out a few words here and there, but the ones he was most set on were ‘missing’ and ‘forest’. The prospect of another missing person case was exciting, but also a bit disheartening. 

It wasn’t out of the ordinary for people to sometimes disappear. Others often said that when someone went missing, it was because they ran away off to a bigger city. Truth be told, very few actually believed it. The reason why everyone pretended to was that if someone had been killed, their bodies were most definitely in the woods. Just about everyone was scared of the place and would rather live in denial than venture into it. no one wanted to do anything about people going missing until it happened to one of theirs.

The forest was just to the right. It was named The West Leaf Pines but was more commonly known by the locals as The Sticks. Angus had only gone a few yards into it, but he’d heard stories about the inside. Every person he’d asked about it had told him The Sticks was like that of an ocean. The deeper they went into it, the more the ground slanted, making them fall further into the forest floor, almost like the ground wanted to swallow them. They talked about how the trees grew to abnormal sizes, to that of a redwood, and large animals lurked about, laying in wait for a meal. Every aspect of being inside the wall of trees was disorienting. 

Angus found the notion ridiculous. 

The idea that the forest floor sloped so much, yet the overlook of the trees remained steady just wasn’t possible and he’d read enough books that backed up his claim. The only things he believed about what the adults had told him was how sunshine barely showed through the oak tree leaves and how it was dangerous.

Neither fact was going to stop him though. 

The stranger bid her farewell and exited the shop, he seemed torn over something as he nervously cracked his knuckles. 

Angus walked up to the cashier with two shiny fountain pens in hand. He set them on the counter and dug through his satchel for some coins, which he quickly put on the counter as well.

“Hello, Mrs. Hezroustrike.” He greeted

She picked up the coins. “Angus McDonald, how are you doing today?”

Her store was always one of his favorite places to visit. She was very polite and never treated him like a little kid.

“I’m doing quite good, ma’am. How about yourself?”

She swept a hand through her graying hair. “I’m doing alright, hon.” 

It was obvious that she wasn’t being truthful, but he decided he wouldn’t call her out on it. He briefly thought about asking what the stranger needed, but he thought that it was most likely one of the reasons she seemed worn down.

When the exchange was over, Angus left with a wave and wished her a good day. He pulled his bike from against the wall after he put the pens away and climbed back onto it. 

He pedaled to a string of old, abandoned houses that sat near the tree line. They were overtaken by thick vines, moss, and other sprouting flora. As beautiful as it was to look at, there was something foreboding about the cracked bricks and crumbling chimneys.

He parked his bike once more and left it between two houses. He covered the gleaming, metal parts of it with a large pile of leaves to hide it in case someone else came along. After deciding that it was well enough concealed, he brushed his hands together and stepped to the very edge of The Sticks. 

Angus didn't know what to expect, but if so many other people were going to try and use fear as a motivation to keep him away from it, he had to see the inside for himself. Maybe he would be able to get behind the explanations of the disappearances as well. 

**Author's Note:**

> Oh no, Angus, you've seemed to find yourself in a Lovecraftian-esque fanfiction, oh god, he's got his gramophone on, he can't hear us.


End file.
